“I really am sorry,” he murmured, as she began to cry.
Ever practical as she was, down-to-earth and resolute - she pretended to not be a natural mother, but who had been her first thought here, whose happiness would she sacrifice her own for, so unthinkingly? - the tears were proof that this had really hit her. She had been fighting tears that day in the Fisks’ sitting room. The day he’d told himself he was fixing things for her, and not making them worse.
(It might have worked if Ben’s perspective hadn’t changed, if he hadn’t remembered and come running. If Ari’s hope for anything between them had remained ash and embers, he might have tried harder with Dionisia, been a little better at pretending. He might have settled, truly tried to be happy with her. And yet - the last year and a half had been happy for him, perhaps the happiest. The whole period of his marriage was inextricable with that happiness with Ben, and Dionisia had suffered for it all the while. If he had been better, he might have sacrificed that for her sake. He knew he should have.)
Ari still didn’t know if she wanted him near her, but with her tears falling like that he couldn’t just stand and watch; he stepped back up to her, brushing the wetness from her cheeks with hesitant hands, trying to offer her a quiet smile of sympathy but not certain she would see it through the sobs. He could see she was trying to be strong, but he was too grateful to her for words, so at first all he could do was fold her into his arms and hold her tightly, just in case it helped.
“You and Elliott are mine,” he murmured, in answer of being family. “And you will be as long as you want to be.” It was small consolation for the hope he might have destroyed tonight, but not being entirely alone in the world had to be something. If he hadn’t had his family growing up - he didn’t know who he would be. Perhaps that was why he was so terrified at the idea of losing them. Speaking of - “Besides, you know more about me now than most of my family do,” he added, with a weak attempt at a laugh. And it had not made her leave.
There was still a niggling strain of guilt in his mind that he still had to tell her the whole truth about Ben, that the love he’d always thought he couldn’t have was his now, and had been for some time - but he hadn’t worked out how to say it yet. “And you won’t always be lonely,” Ari reassured her in a soothing tone, as if to make up for it in the meantime - although he hadn’t any good way of ensuring an end to her loneliness, either. “I promise you won’t.” But it was true, wasn’t it? Love didn’t respect boxes or boundaries, not in their world. Man, woman, married, not - he did not know how or when or to who, but one day in her life she would fall in love.
Ever practical as she was, down-to-earth and resolute - she pretended to not be a natural mother, but who had been her first thought here, whose happiness would she sacrifice her own for, so unthinkingly? - the tears were proof that this had really hit her. She had been fighting tears that day in the Fisks’ sitting room. The day he’d told himself he was fixing things for her, and not making them worse.
(It might have worked if Ben’s perspective hadn’t changed, if he hadn’t remembered and come running. If Ari’s hope for anything between them had remained ash and embers, he might have tried harder with Dionisia, been a little better at pretending. He might have settled, truly tried to be happy with her. And yet - the last year and a half had been happy for him, perhaps the happiest. The whole period of his marriage was inextricable with that happiness with Ben, and Dionisia had suffered for it all the while. If he had been better, he might have sacrificed that for her sake. He knew he should have.)
Ari still didn’t know if she wanted him near her, but with her tears falling like that he couldn’t just stand and watch; he stepped back up to her, brushing the wetness from her cheeks with hesitant hands, trying to offer her a quiet smile of sympathy but not certain she would see it through the sobs. He could see she was trying to be strong, but he was too grateful to her for words, so at first all he could do was fold her into his arms and hold her tightly, just in case it helped.
“You and Elliott are mine,” he murmured, in answer of being family. “And you will be as long as you want to be.” It was small consolation for the hope he might have destroyed tonight, but not being entirely alone in the world had to be something. If he hadn’t had his family growing up - he didn’t know who he would be. Perhaps that was why he was so terrified at the idea of losing them. Speaking of - “Besides, you know more about me now than most of my family do,” he added, with a weak attempt at a laugh. And it had not made her leave.
There was still a niggling strain of guilt in his mind that he still had to tell her the whole truth about Ben, that the love he’d always thought he couldn’t have was his now, and had been for some time - but he hadn’t worked out how to say it yet. “And you won’t always be lonely,” Ari reassured her in a soothing tone, as if to make up for it in the meantime - although he hadn’t any good way of ensuring an end to her loneliness, either. “I promise you won’t.” But it was true, wasn’t it? Love didn’t respect boxes or boundaries, not in their world. Man, woman, married, not - he did not know how or when or to who, but one day in her life she would fall in love.
